


Secret Admirer

by nisachara



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bottom Itachi, M/M, Modern AU, PWP, a take on a slightly jealous Shisui, hah, poor Itachi?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nisachara/pseuds/nisachara
Summary: Itachi has a secret admirer and Shisui is less than thrilled.





	Secret Admirer

He’d noticed it that first day he’d come home and thanked Shisui for the bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you for the flowers.” Still smiling to himself, working on undoing the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt. Still reveling in the attention, too, apparently. Work had been uncharacteristically great. Perhaps the flowers were to blame, but they sure did lift his mood some.

He’d only said he liked flowers in passing; Itachi never really expected Shisui to follow through, especially because Shisui didn’t seem like the type to buy flowers and chocolates and call him home for a candlelit dinner with champagne and the whole shebang. Shisui was that person who listened and smiled and gave no indication that he had plans up his sleeve, and when in passing Itachi would tell him his favorite book as a child was Moby Dick (and he’d laugh and say it wasn’t his favorite story by a long shot, and Itachi would purse his lips and tell him he never expected it to be) he’d surprise him about a year later with an authentic first edition copy of it with the publication date an unbelievable 1851.

Shisui didn’t do flowers or candlelit dinners or roses on the bed. He took Itachi running along the seaside just so he could have a nice helping of soft serve and dip his toes in the water afterwards. He made caramel popcorn and chocolate truffles and pot after pot of tea when Itachi told him he had to work late. He picked up Itachi’s laundry and took care of dinner just so Itachi could have time to sleep. He even forwarded subscription emails about discounts on pajamas or sweaters.

It worked out well for Itachi. Shisui didn’t bug him about not making time for them; he simply adjusted to Itachi’s crazy schedule.

That wasn’t to say that Shisui’s schedule was less than crazy. He worked most days from five in the morning to nine at night at the restaurant six blocks down the road. Some days he got lucky with a shorter ‘shift’ when the other chef would come in. Other days he worked full time.

But nine in the evening meant a rather late dinner on the days Itachi couldn’t make it to the restaurant, and Shisui would be flying through the kitchen at Itachi’s apartment trying to whip something up as fast as he possibly could before Itachi got home. Nine was late as it was, there was no point waiting any longer. And they each had each other’s spare keys at this point.

That day was another ‘late dinner’ day; Shisui was in a rush to get things ready. He was mostly done, too, until Itachi had thanked him for the flowers.

The tempo in the kitchen abruptly slowed for a second.

“What flowers?”

With his second cuff undone and now in the process of being rolled up to his elbow, Itachi had looked Shisui in the eye and returned the look of confusion. “The ones you sent to my work.”

“I didn’t send you any…” And while it occurred to Shisui that maybe Itachi really did like flowers and that he should probably surprise him with some, there was reason knocking on his door and reminding him why he hadn’t sent him anything in the first place. “I thought we agreed we were keeping things pretty low profile.” For both their sakes—neither was out yet and both had long term plans that could very well be thwarted if their personal life came to light prematurely.

But it was in that moment between the confirmation that Shisui didn’t send any flowers and the reminder that they were keeping things low key that Itachi thought he witnessed a sliver of a shadow cross Shisui’s face. Even if he smiled that lopsided smile of his there was something forced, something straining the corners of his mouth that day where those smiles always came so easy any other day.

That was Itachi’s first clue: the one that told him Shisui was the jealous type. Mildly, perhaps, because they had laughed about it and brushed things aside afterwards, but it was there. And he hadn’t really known what to think at the time. Going over it at night, he’d noticed the weird pit in his stomach that didn’t seem to go away, but also acknowledged the feeling of relief in knowing that Shisui placed some degree of ownership on him to the extent that such a thing would rouse an ounce of jealousy.

He’d felt somewhat ashamed for finding this an opportunity to feel special.

And just when he’d had trouble coming to terms with his reaction to the entire situation, Shisui had held him tighter than usual that night.

But today…

Today Shisui isn’t smiling. At all.

It’s well past ten and they’ve both had dinner at the restaurant before heading over to Itachi’s apartment for the night (Shisui pretty much lived there now; it was convenient). Itachi had driven them home and they’d talked about work and funny customers and shellfish that refused to be shelled and everything was normal and happy and perfect. –Until Itachi starts undressing by the bed and the first thing he pulls out of his coat pocket is a wad of notes and cards addressed to him by that same anonymous admirer that had sent those flowers the first day.

Shisui has only gotten past taking off his t-shirt when he notices the notes in Itachi’s hand. Doesn’t even bother saying anything – he knows what those are – and reaches over to take them from Itachi, the look on his face reading ‘these again?’

But it was definitely more than that. His jaw is set in a straight line and his brows seem to nearly knit together when he frowns, the frown deepening with every card he brings to the top of the stack. There are so many.

“They were cluttering my mail box at work, so I brought them with me.” Itachi was working on loosening his tie, eyeing Shisui as he spoke.

Shisui was angry, he could tell.

He’s never really seen Shisui so upset before.

By the time he finally gets his tie off and starts on the buttons of his shirt, Shisui flings the notes onto the bed behind him in one abrupt move.

The action makes him stop and watch closely, on the alert for anything, aware that Shisui was in a bit of a mood now. But he doesn’t really know what to expect of that mood—it was new even to him.

And Shisui hasn’t really spoken a word since he’d laid eyes on those damned notes. It’s in that moment that Itachi wishes he’d shredded them at work instead of bringing them home.

Maybe this was pushing things too far.

Because in the next moment, Shisui pulls him almost flush up against him by the collar of his shirt. For a moment there Itachi flinches, thinking they were about to get into some sort of brawl by the way he was tugged close and the grip Shisui had on his shirt. Not to mention the look on his face—it only seemed to get worse. The look in those eyes grew so intense it was hard to look straight at them.

“Shi–” He starts but his mouth shuts closed almost immediately when he feels Shisui’s fingers almost tearing his shirt open. So impatient with the buttons on it.

Itachi has an inkling of where this was going now…

And there’s that tingle. That lick of heat somewhere deep, deep inside that’s got the butterflies going in his stomach and the fish swimming in his veins and Itachi catches himself breathing just a tad faster, just a tad shallower.

There’s a breath that leaves him, shaky, when Shisui reaches for his ponytail and sets it loose, gripping his hair at the nape of his neck and tipping his head back just a smidge. He’s already stirring down there, underwear feeling gradually tighter as Shisui’s breath ghosts his. And he’s murmuring a sigh by the time their lips meet and everything about that kiss is a statement.

 _Mine._ That was all Shisui was saying. _Mine._ With the way his fingers twisted in Itachi’s hair and the way his lips bruised his as he kissed him. And it seemed like Shisui was utterly frustrated with how his tongue wasn’t long enough to reach impossible depths when it felt like he needed to be in and out and all around Itachi. It wasn’t enough and the desperate, possessive kisses soon migrate to leaving a bright bruise about an inch below Itachi’s ear.

That pulls a soft groan from Itachi, his eyes closing, rolling back as the pads of his fingers dig painfully into Shisui’s shoulders.

And he’s just about getting used to the feeling when Shisui pushes him back. It’s enough to startle him out of his present state of mind (which was climbing ever so close to ‘blissful’). He feels Shisui’s hands on his belt buckle, the clink of metal and whoosh of leather sliding past fabric reaching him faster than the actual registration of what was being done. It’s followed by the tell-tale sound of a zipper being unzipped and he doesn’t even have time to look and confirm before he’s shoved hard.

The wind leaves him for a minute there as he hits the mattress, crumpling the notes strewn everywhere when he ends up on them. He finds himself staring at the ceiling, blinking for all of a second when he feels hands on him again and Shisui is yanking his pants off of him. Pants and underwear and everything all at once—there’s not a thread left on him.

And when Shisui grabs his ankle, Itachi knows exactly what to do. He’s turning around already, on his elbows and knees, hair in his face and sweeping the sheets. He’d push the hair out of his face but there’s Shisui again and before he can even look over at him, he finds himself pressing his face into the sheets, moaning at the feeling of that hot wet tongue gliding up the crack of his ass.

But it’s only doing that once and Itachi’s whining the loss of contact, pushing his ass back, asking for more. A lot more.

He vaguely registers the sound of the bedside drawer opening and then closing soon afterwards. Itachi doesn’t really have the presence of mind to think, to question why this was happening. He has a feeling he might know, and that it all has to do with the notes he brought home from work, but there’s no time to analyze because he feels the mattress shifting behind him under Shisui’s weight. There are hands on him again and Itachi feels himself break out in goose bumps. They’re starting at his thighs and going up—up all the way past his shoulders until he feels fingers comb his hair back into a makeshift ponytail and then tug. Not abruptly; instead, it’s a steady pull, tipping his head back.

He feels Shisui shift behind him at the same time, feels how a hand leaves his hair and Shisui’s fist settles against the mattress as he puts his weight on it, leaning forward. He feels Shisui’s knees shift closer to his own, and then there’s the hardness in those jeans pressing up against his bare ass and Itachi’s loses it, impatient again. He’s pushing up against Shisui, whining. Needy, angry, pissed off that Shisui still had his goddamn pants on, not at all looking forward to any teasing. He’s fisting the sheets and pursing his lips, pushing again and gods it feels so good. Anything, _anything_ to get him to sate the fire Shisui started.

Shisui better finish _or else_ —

But the thought is cut short when Shisui leans in further, breath at his ear, leaning flush against him and rolling his hips in tandem with Itachi’s movements. Itachi’s still somewhat bitter about Shisui teasing him with his tongue at first but switching to humping him with his pants on, but he doesn’t really say it out loud. He doesn’t really say anything, actually, besides gasp softly and spread his knees further.

Shisui’s grip on Itachi’s hair tightens, and then shifts so that he’s got his lips almost right up against Itachi’s ear.

“I’m gonna fuck your brains out,” he murmurs, decidedly, and Itachi feels himself shake under Shisui. Just a little shudder.

There’s another twist in his hair and it’s almost painful but Shisui stops just short of actually hurting him. Itachi feels teeth at the shell of his ear for a moment before Shisui adds: “And then I’m gonna fuck you again.” There are teeth tugging gently at his ear again before they let him go and the tip of that sinful tongue is caressing the spot. It’s been in his ass but he doesn’t really care. Someday he will make that joke about Shisui managing to remain a chef with impeccable taste buds after all that they get up to after hours, but the thought dies almost as soon as it crosses his mind. “And you’re gonna come when I tell you to.”

Oh…

_Oh._

Itachi almost wants to decide that he doesn’t like that plan and he might have even opened his mouth to say something just then, but all that leaves his mouth is a hiss when lubed fingers enter him. He hadn’t even noticed when Shisui had reached behind to snap off the lid on the bottle and get his fingers wet. It doesn’t matter though, because there’s something in him _finally_.

Itachi’s half afraid that Shisui would end up teasing for way too long but then he feels him shift behind him again in a minute, settling flush against him like he did before. He’s still got his hand in his hair and Itachi can only just barely look over at Shisui in his position. It’s enough to catch a glimpse of that smirk.

It makes him skip a beat.

There’s the dull sound of Shisui’s zipper coming undone, followed by the rustle of fabric and Itachi has to fight the urge to buck against him despite the grip on his hair because he can feel Shisui’s cock right up against him and he’s waited long enough. He can feel Shisui pour lube all over himself—it’s cool and slick and Itachi distinctly feels a trickle down his perineum.

Shisui leans in once again, the head of his cock pressing against Itachi’s ass, straining against his entrance. Itachi hums, then holds his breath as Shisui presses in all the way to the hilt, filling him up the way he always did. When Itachi breathes again his breath is shaky once more.

It helps that Shisui lets go of his hair.

Itachi has every intention of fucking himself on that cock, rolling his hips back already—but Shisui has another request for him: “Read what’s in that note.”

…What?

There’s a sharp shift of hips and Itachi nearly cries out at the thrust. He’s scrambling to grab the nearest piece of paper.

“Read what’s in the note, Itachi.”

Shisui’s hands shift to Itachi’s hips, settling with a firm grip as he starts up a quick pace, thrusts quick, punctuated and deliberately sliding at a particular angle meant to make Itachi see stars after enough stimulation.

Itachi can barely focus.


End file.
